


Parent Teacher Conference

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fever, Friendship, Gen, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Platonic Relationships, Sick Character, Sick Lance (Voltron), Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A teacher AU. Lance is sick, but can't call out for the parent teacher conferences. His friends take care of him at the end of the night.





	Parent Teacher Conference

Parent teacher conference week was already kind of the worst thing ever.

Normally, if you did your job well, you were able to get along with your business without much reprimand. 

This was  _not_  the case for educators.

Though Lance was an excellent teacher–everyone thought so, and the consistently high test scores from his students confirmed it–there were bound to be a few students who were doing poorly.

Particularly, her name was Jane. Of course, this was not her  _real_ name, but Lace wasn’t about to give her real name out, even to me, your narrator. 

Jane wasn’t trying. At first, when her test grades were consistently low, he initiated after school review sessions, in which he would stay after and answer any questions kids had before a test.

Many students showed up, and the scores for that test were higher than normal, but not Jane. She hadn’t come.

Then, Lance had thought, maybe it was because she wasn’t able to stay after school that she wasn’t coming to these reviews, so he added a second one before school hours.

A few more students joined that one, too, so it wasn’t entirely a bust, but still, no Jane. Lance  reminded her of his office hours, offered her private one-on-one tutoring sessions during lunch, and even asked if she felt that it was something in his own teaching style that wasn’t making sense, so that he could adjust it or transfer her to a teacher who she might match better with. She’d shrugged and said “whatever.” 

Lance asked if she wanted to go to the counselor to make sure everything was okay at home. He kept an eye on her during lunch and in class to make sure she was bonding with her peers and not having issues with bullying. He tried detentions, incentives for turning in assignments, longer deadlines, everything he could think of.

Every time Lance opened a door, Jane shut it. 

And her parents were livid about it. Vocally, rudely, inexcusably mad. And of course, Lance had no other choice but to hear their complaints, explain the way in which he’d attempted to address each one, then ultimately be blamed for Jane’s failure of his class and pulled to take it from another teacher. 

Finally, at the end of the night, the teachers all met in the lounge. Blearility exhausted from both the tiring evening and the cold he’d been fighting off, which had seemed to get much worse over the course of the day, Lance followed the smell of coffee to the break room.

Everyone else looked tired, too.

“Shit, Lance. Rough parent?” Hunk asked. 

“Try rough generation of parents,” he groaned. “Why are the baby boomers so mean?”

“I wish I knew,” Shiro sympathized, offering a cup of coffee, which Lance refused. 

“No, thanks,” he dodged, “my head is killing me, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Fair enough,” Shiro said, sipping the beverage himself. 

“Seriously though, you look like you’ve lost your will to live,” Pidge called from across the room, snacking on a pack of confiscated gummy bears. 

“Can someone chisel the smile off my face? I think the plaster is starting to set,” Lance dodged. He rested his eyes in the crook of his elbow until he heard the door open again.

“This looks like a room full of broken souls,” Keith’s voice said tiredly, “pretty much what I was expecting.”

“You, too?” Hunk asked. 

“Of course,” Keith returned. “I need coffee.”

“You’re gonna be up all night,” Lance argued, muffled my his coat sleeve, “you know how caffeine affects you.”

“Woah, I didn’t even notice you there,” Keith startled. 

Pidge laughed. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that about Lance,” she smirked.

Keith offered his coffee to Lance. “Want a cup? I can grab another one–you look like you could use it.”

Lance shook his head miserably. “Ugh, no. Please get that away.”

Keith frowned. Lance was pale, nearly green, so he pulled his coffee back to his chest and covered the top with his hand.

“So, whose parents were pissed?” Hunk asked. “You look like you got chewed a new asshole by  _someone_.”

Lance, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t laugh. Usually, these sessions were meant for bitching about whiny parents of entitled kids, and praising the kids who had worked hard through the semester.

Instead, Lance looked choked up.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I just–I feel bad. I’m failing her, you know? I promised myself that I was gonna get her up to a C in my class, and I just–I couldn’t.” Shit, was he on the verge of tears? That was embarrassing. He returned his head to his arm.

“Hey, you can’t make a kid learn if they don’t want to,” Shiro said patiently. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Lance shook his head, shuffling in his jacket. “I don’t believe in kids who don’t want to learn,” Lance insisted.

Keith laughed. “Seriously? We’re at an academy of rich kids who take their education for granted. Of course there are kids who don’t want to learn. They’re just gonna inherit a business from their parents and be rich without working a day in their lives.”

Lance didn’t object, but didn’t look convinced. Before he could argue, his voice caught on a raspy breath, and he coughed harshly. 

Shiro, of course, was the first to start to worry. “Have you been to a doctor? You’ve been sick for like a week, and it sounds worse than it did yesterday.”

Lance shrugged. “No, but it’s fine.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t be doing parent teacher conferences if you’re sick,” he scolded.

“I mean, it’s hard enough to sit and get yelled at, but I can’t imagine doing it if I already didn’t feel good,” Hunk added, more gently.

“It’s not like I can just call off,” Lance defended. “Fever or no fever, parents deserve to know what’s going on with their kids.”

“You’ve got a  _fever_?” Pidge asked incredulously, reaching out to press a hand to his forehead, distantly realizing that they probably didn’t know each other on a personal enough level for her to be doing this. Nonetheless, she winced at the heat that pressed against her palm. “Shit,” she cursed softly, “yeah. Okay, I’m giving you a ride home. Come on, get up.”

“No, no–it’s fine. I can take a bus or something.”

“Lance, I live like five minutes from you,” she argued, “I’m taking you home.”

“I don’t want to cut your fun short,” Lance insisted. 

“Ugh, why are you so dumb?” she asked, punching him lightly on the arm. “We’re not gonna have a good time if we know you’re sitting here miserable. Do you have medicine, or should we stop at a drugstore?”

Keith interjected before Lance could answer. “I’ll stop by with some stuff; you just take him home.” 

Hunk helped Lance to his feet and to Pidge’s car, not trusting him to walk. 

“Don’t come back until you’ve been fever-free for 24 hours,” Shiro instructed, “and call if you need anything. Everyone else, have a good weekend.” Pidge watched him wave goodbye through the rearview mirror, cranking up the heat for Lance, who was shivering.

“Thanks for this,” Lance said. “I know it’s a burden, but I really appreciate it.”

Pidge sighed irritably. “Lance, doing things for friends isn’t a burden,” she said, “it’s a privilege. You combined our classes for three hours last month when I got food poisoning so I could go home, and I’ve been waiting to pay you back since.”

Lance smiled. “Well, consider us even.” 

“And for the record… it’s not about breaking even. I… don’t have a lot of people–I never have–who would do something so nice for me just because they care. It’s about protecting that. It’s about you.” 

He’d probably have teared up even if he  _wasn’t_  running a fever. 

“Aw, Pigeon,” he sniffled, “thanks.”

“Any time,” she said, flashing him a sincere smile at the stoplight. “Just ask for help, next time.”

Lance nodded and let himself fall asleep in the passenger seat.


End file.
